The Dark Prince
by AnshaP
Summary: Edward had heard others rave about the ground-breaking, indescribable feeling, but he had never experienced it- until now. Regency AU


**Hi!**

 **So here's another one shot I had written a long time back.**

 **As for my other stories, I am sorry to say that they are on hiatus till November, 2020 when I'll be appearing for the final exams of the professional course I'm currently pursuing. I feel horrible for leaving my stories and all my readers in a lurch and can only hope that these one shots that I will post sporadically can compensate in some way.**

 **At present, I am not in a position to dedicate any time to writing. As it is, it takes me long enough to get to editing these one shots that have been languishing in my laptop. My internship and studies hardly allow me any free time for myself, let alone for writing, which is why I've put my fics on hiatus.**

 **But they are not abandoned. And I promise to start posting after my exams.**

* * *

 ** _"_** ** _I am the shade. Through the dolent city, I flee. Through the eternal woe, I take flight…" - Dan Brown, Inferno_**

Lady Isabella Swan barely held onto her dwindling composure as she smiled faintly at the man in front of her.

"May I be so bold as to tell you how fetching you look, my Lady?" Lord James Hunter, the Viscount Davenport leered at her, "You are absolutely bewitching!"

"Come now, Hunter," Lord Charles Swan, her father laughed, "Did you honestly expect anything less of _my_ child?"

"Of course not, my Lord," James replied smoothly, "With you and Lady Renee as her parents, how can she be any less enchanting?"

"Oh, you are too kind, Lord James," Lady Renee tittered, fanning herself, "Such a charmer, you are."

Isabella cringed, desiring nothing more than to remove herself from her undesirable company. She had never been one to get easily intimidated, but the way Lord James stared at her- as if she were an Arabian* he intended to purchase- made her feel humiliated and filthy.

"Ah, but I speak nothing but the truth, Madam. You left several broken hearts in your wake when you married Lord Charles and now it seems that the history is about to repeat itself. I daresay that a worthy suitor shall take Lady Isabella away from your hands soon enough."

"So it seems, Hunter, so it seems," Her father nodded, a pleased gleam lightening his eyes, making Isabella feel grateful that she was yet to eat anything.

She would have to be daft to not understand the underlying meaning of their wordy byplay. Ever since the unfortunate moment on that fateful night in the Royal theatre when Lord James had first clapped eyes on her, she had dreaded her coming out. He had stared at her covetously, possessively with thinly veiled lust- just as he did every time they had met since then- and Isabella had known without a shadow of doubt that he would offer for her as soon as she was presented before the Queen.

Yet, she had tried to assuage her worries, attempted to keep her fear at bay, for she had held onto the hope that her parents wouldn't force her to marry him. They might not hold her in much consequence except to bask in the adulations of her beauty and musical prowess, but surely they held her in enough regard as to not sell her to that beast veneered in the finery of riches.

For that was what Lord James Hunter was- a beast.

Despite the pretensions of the _polite_ society to protect the delicate, maidenly sensibilities of young ladies, it was impossible to hide every scandal, every infamy of its respected members. And Lord James's reputation preceded him.

Drinking, gambling, frequenting houses of ill-repute, brawling… the list of his debauchery was as endless as the depths of his coffers. He had no honor, abundant arrogance, and a sense of righteous entitlement which was worsened by his selfishness and cruelty.

And he wanted _her_ for his bride- a bleaker fate she could not imagine.

"…to request this set?" Isabella was jolted from her dark thoughts by Lord James requesting her hand for a dance.

"Do not be so hasty, Hunter. Isabella promised this dance to me," Her father admonished him jovially.

"Oh, come now, my Lord! Surely Isabella would be more desirous of the company of a strapping young man like Lord James over her father. Do relinquish him to her and join me, dear," Lady Renee giggled coyly.

Isabella reeled back in horror. This couldn't be happening! No, it can't! They couldn't be serious to…to try and tie her down with a dishonorable man like _him._ Her parents wouldn't be so heartless as to barter their only daughter for money and connection!

There was no denying that her worst nightmare was coming true.

"Come, _my Lady,"_ James's smirk was as ferocious as it was lascivious, as he led her away from her parents. However, it was neither his words nor his inflection which froze her insides.

No, it was the identical expression of greed and satisfaction on the faces of Lord Charles Swan and Lady Renee Swan that benumbed Isabella. She would be lying if she said that her parents' disregard and thoughtlessness had ceased to hurt her a long time back. No, every time they had made a snide comment, punished her for not being the perfect daughter they thought they deserved, or simply looked through her as if she did not even exist, she had hurt. Yet, she had reasoned their actions, their selfishness, deluding herself into thinking that they were motivated by their desire to secure a better future for her.

But now as she mechanically danced in the hold of the reprobate, the two people whose love and approval she had craved with the desperation of a beggar, _apparently_ chose for her, she could no longer deny the _truth_ that she had been foolishly ignoring the entire seventeen years of her young life.

Yet, there was no sense of loss, no feeling of betrayal.

She did not even shed a single tear…for the clandestine funeral of her childish dream, of her foolhardy naivety, ripped apart her life and beliefs, presenting her with a reality, a callous, harsh, _bitter_ reality, that shredded her heart.

One has to have something to lose it.

And Isabella had never _had_ her parents' love.

"I hope you will oblige me with another set, Lady Isabella?" Lord James said, his hand inching lower on her back to a place it had no business of straying to.

He eyed her as a dog would a particularly juicy bone, making her shudder in disgust.

"I…I thank you!" Isabella gasped, wrenching herself away from him.

Without a thought, she turned rushed through the crowd, barely paying mind to others around her. For the first time in her life, Isabella cared not for upholding the good name and reputation of her parents' as she fled from the commodious ballroom that seemed to be closing in on her.

Once in the dimly lit hallway, she traced the familiar path, fleeing to her only sanctuary in her ancestral home.

She barely closed the door of the library behind her- not trusting Lord James to not follow her, or take advantage of their seclusion- and crumbled forward, her arms clutching at her waist. She sobbed piteously, her upper arm aching from the fierce grip of her teeth as she tried to stifle the noise. She felt truly wretched, even the library that had been her solace throughout her life, failed to offer comfort from the agony that coursed through her. The desperation, the loneliness, the _heartache_ juddered through her body as a roiling mass, jarring her very bones, until she felt she would break apart at the seam or be consumed by the darkness that was blotting her tear-glazed vision.

"Breathe," Softest velvet caressed her skin suddenly, seeming to rise from the encroaching darkness "Breathe, my Lady. I am here."

Sobs wracked her slight frame and she bit her lip so hard that she tasted coppery tang of her blood. Isabella tried to draw breath, to do as the voice commanded, yet her lungs seemed incapable of performing the task.

"Shh, you will only make yourself sick," Something touched her back gently, yet firmly, holding her in place. " _They_ are not worthy of your tears, my Lady." The voice cooed.

Then the world shifted…encasing her in a burning warmth and a wintry cold.

"They shall be blighted like the repulsive wretches they are. I give you my words."

"I…I…he tr…ied…to and…and…they…waa…nt me. Oh, it is…useless!" She cried, "He…he..wou…ld… Why can…not the..y love me?" Isabella blubbered, trying to bury her head in the phantom that comforted her, for she had no doubt that he was a phantom. No one had ever held her, ever soothed her like that and now that she has finally accepted that she would always be alone and unloved, her grief has surely snapped her mind.

"I shall tear _him_ apart from limb to limb if he dares to touch you, my Lady," Her phantom was fierce in his protection and quick in his defense, "I shan't allow anyone to take advantage of you _ever."_

His promise unraveled the tempest within her and she wept in his embrace, unleashing all the hurt and sorrow she had always kept contained within her.

* * *

It was beautiful.

It was enticing, luxuriant and seductive.

That delicious scent- a heady combination of lilacs and roses, and something undeniably feminine- nearly brought him to his knees as soon as he entered the Swan Manor. Unable to believe the ramifications of such entrancement of his senses, he stalked through the crowd, paying no mind to the people who greeted him, undoubtedly giving offense to some and frightening many with his single-minded fierceness.

Yet, he neither cared, nor heard the murmurs of their disapprobation or fear.

The endless chatter of foreign thoughts that had constantly invaded his cerebral landscape since the moment he had opened his eyes to the endless night of immortality, was silenced for the first time in millenniums.

He was finally accorded the quiet…the blessed, _peaceful_ quiet by _his mate…_ the one he had started to think did not even exist.

 _"_ _A rose blooms amidst the thorns."_

Edward would never forget the balmy after noon, the Delphic voice of Alice Whitlock had given him a glance in his future…of the dawn to the darkness that was his life. Yet, jaded as he was, he had refused to believe that something so pure, so pious, and so, so innocent could ever belong to him. The loneliness and disappointment that he had suffered in the countless centuries he saw and experienced the joys of mating through the thoughts of those around him, made him so cynical that he had even scoffed at the love of mated pairs and had gone as far as to utter the blasphemy of calling the mating bond a weakness.

Yet, he had not resisted Alice, had not _killed_ her when she had insisted that _he_ enter the human society- the ton, as the Duke of Aldridge. He was to pretend to be the only son of his vassal, Jasper Whitlock who had had the duchy in his family line for nearly three hundred years and had stayed away from the ton for long enough for him to both, earn the title of a recluse and to fake his death, thus, ensuring smooth entry of Edward in the London society.

And now as he marched through the revelers, nearly giving his secret away in his desperation, some remote part of his brain recognized his lack of belief and respect for the mating bond, for what it was: envy.

 _A case of sour grapes, indeed._

* * *

Edward finally found her, only to have her disappear in the swell of the crowd…and leave the perverted workings of a filthy mind in her wake.

 _'_ _That shameless doxy!* How dare she disrespect me like this! I shall teach her manners after we are wed!'_

Rage, lethal and powerful ravaged his body, till he desired nothing more than to kill the ingrate who had dared to hurt her, to think of her in such a base, uncouth way. Edward wanted to break him apart piece-by-piece till his bones turned to dust and his innards to bloody pulp. He wanted to maim and butcher, to rip out his heart and mind to return the agony he had caused his beloved.

Yet he resisted, _knowing_ that it was not the time for avenging her, for _she_ was more important than anything, _anyone._

Besides, one way or another, the revenge would be his- a ghastly, gory, _macabre_ revenge.

He never lets his enemies get away from him, after all.

* * *

She was exquisite.

With her soft, porcelain skin, high cheekbones, pert nose, rosy lips and delicate stature, she looked more perfect than angels, humans sing paeans about.

And he was hers.

Just as he hoped that she would agree to be his for the rest of eternity.

"Breathe…breathe, my Lady. I am here."

"I…I…he tr…ied…to and…and…they…waa…nt me. Oh, it is…useless!" Isabella cried, "He…he..wou…ld…"

"I shall tear _him_ apart from limb to limb if he dares to touch you, my Lady," Edward whispered, his lips pulling back over his teeth as he remembered the sick fantasies of the cur who had dared lay his hands on _his_ mate.

 _His Isabella._

"I shan't allow anyone to take advantage of you _ever."_

* * *

"You are real." Isabella whispered, reaching out to caress his cheek with the softest of touch. Leaning her head on his chest, she gazed up at him in wonderment. Never had she seen a more stately and handsome man. She idly wondered if she had died and gone to Heaven and promptly colored at her fanciful thoughts.

He turned his face and kissed her hand, setting her nerves on fire. He had heard others rave about this wonderful, brilliant, _indescribable_ feeling of rightness, but it had never happened to him- until now.

"Hmm, so I am, my Lady," Edward crooned, burying his face in the rippling mask of burnished silk that was her hair. In his bid to soothe her, he had massaged her scalp and smoothed her hair, not even realizing when her jeweled pins gave way.

Isabella nuzzled closer to him, breathing in his scent that surrounded her like the warmest cocoon. Something niggled in her brain as she turned her face to his chest, something fleeting, yet paramount, but she gave it no mind. Never in her life had she been so uncaring of her own reputation, yet as she settled closer to her handsome stranger, nary a thought of impropriety of her actions permeated her brain. It was as if she was in a haze, a pleasant dream from which she had no desire to awaken.

"Edward Cul…Whitlock at your service, my Lady."

It was his name that finally brought her crashing to the ground in an instant.

Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open in alarm. Cherry hue pooled her cheeks, before she turned deathly white. She scrambled from his lap hastily (much to his disappointment) and curtsied to him deeply on shaky legs.

"My sincerest apologies, Your Grace. I had no idea…that is to say, I do not engage in such behavior. I had thought that you weren't real…I mean…I…I was upset and…Oh, this is so wretched! I am sorry for the inconvenience and mortification I have no doubt caused you. You must think me to be a hoyden, endeavoring to entrap you and…" Isabella lowered her head in shame. Even though she had just met him, the very thought that he might consider her one of the vapid, opportunistic mercenaries of the ton had pain lancing through her heart.

"Shh, my Lady," Edward gently took her hand in his, "If anything, it is I who should be blamed for entrapping you. Please do not distress yourself."

"Please, Your Grace, you are all kindness. I promise, _nay,_ I swear on my honor that I shan't breathe a word of this to anyone, not even my father. Your reputation shall not be questioned."

"I do not care for my reputation, my Lady," Edward said forcefully, his heart clenching at the despondency etched on her lovely face, "It is you, I worry about."

He cradled her face in his hands, gently stroking her cheeks, making her shiver.

There was something about him, something wild, feral and primitive.

It was there in his taut muscles, in his broad shoulders, and in the clench of his jaw. But most of all, it was there in his eyes, those brilliant tawny eyes which burned with the intensity of hellfire intent on turning the world to cinders, yet held so much longing and softness as they bore into hers, branding her soul.

"My Lady, I…" Edward tried to say something, but the words failed him. So, he simply held her to him, cocooning her in his essence.

A wayward thought frittered through her mind and her eyes rose to his in bewilderment. She pulled away from him, even as her hands made way to his chest and confirmed the doubt that she had earlier ignored in the warmth of his embrace.

"You don't have a heartbeat," Isabella stated, her lack of fear as bewildering to her as it was to him.

Edward sucked in a sharp breath, but nodded curtly, a peculiar expression settling on his face.

She stepped closer to him, breathing in his scent, trying to put a name to his mouthwatering fragrance- it was musk and sandalwood, and something undeniably, inherently _male…_

"You are not human," She mumbled, her nose nearly buried in the hollow at the base of his throat, her breath tickling fine hair at the nape of his neck.

Edward stiffened, staying his hands at his side with a supreme effort of wills. There was nothing he wanted more than to hold her, but he did not want to scare her, for surely she would run away from him anytime. Surely, she wouldn't want to stay near him now that she knew what kind of a monster he was. Surely…

"But I'm not afraid of you," Isabella breathed, curling her fragile fingers around the lapels of his overcoat. Edward stared at her in shock, his mouth hanging unbecomingly at her impromptu declaration.

 _How is this possible? Is it…is it the mate bond? Is it why she is unafraid, why she isn't repulsed by me?_

"You thought I would be repulsed by you, that I would be afraid of you," Isabella said suddenly, comprehending his fear, "that I would run away from you, screaming as I go…which I should, for you are something else, something otherworldly," She tilted her head to look him in the eye, and he wondered if _she_ had somehow acquired his ability of mind-reading. And speaking of mind reading…

"But…but you are also the one who comforted me, held me when I needed it the most- you a stranger, when _they_ didn't…when they never did." Her voice was laced with pain.

"When they were the cause…"

"What ails you, _my_ Lady?" He could not help the possessiveness coloring his tone, "I cannot bear to see you in pain."

"No, you can't, can you? I do not know what this is, where this will take us, but I do know that whatever you are, whoever you are, you won't hurt me… _ever._ You can't. _"_ Isabella said as if she was in a trance, yet she knew that no truer words had been spoken.

"I am a vampire, my Lady, the ruler of the creatures of night." He wanted her to know everything, to give her an opportunity to refuse him, even if it meant mangling his own heart.

She gazed at him for several heartbeats, her shock apparent. Edward did not turn his eyes away from her, baring his soul.

"I am the most powerful vampire in existence and you…you are my mate, my other half."

"I am your soul-mate?" She asked him abruptly, the draw she felt to him, as if she was tethered to him, negating any dubiousness she might have entertained regarding his fantastical claim.

Edward let out a choked sound, somewhere between a groan and a laugh.

"I do not have a soul, my Lady," He whispered, "I am a creature of night…a beast. _I_ do not have a soul." His eyes beautiful eyes were dulled by sadness and misery.

 _"_ _I don't deserve it."_

Had Isabella not been so near him, she would never have heard his whispered proclamation.

Her heart stilled, then started in frenzied palpitation. He might be the ruler of vampires, he might be most powerful of them all, but that did not mean that he did not _feel,_ that he wasn't _vulnerable…_

No, she refused to believe that he was as unfeeling, as fiendish as he would like her to believe.

Not when he had shown her a side of him that she was sure he had never shown another, not when he was giving her a chance to pull away from him, to send him away, not when he had cared for her like no one else ever had.

Not when he had simply not stolen her away and forcefully bound her to himself, even if, _no when,_ he had the capacity to do so.

So unlike Lord James who thought he had the right to touch and ogle her as he pleased and her parents, for whom she was nothing but a piece of chattel to be given away to highest bidder for material benefits.

And Edward thought _he_ didn't have a soul!

"I accept you," Isabella said confidently.

A guttural growl escaped his throat and his eyes shone like a beacon, stealing her breath away. Near starvation, near insanity, such overwhelming longing and sadness. She could scarcely imagine how long he had drowned in self-deprecation, maintaining his stiff upper-lip for the world to see.

"You don't have to do this, feel obligated or fearful. Even if you refuse me, I'll still protect you, my Lady." Edward promised her through clenched jaw.

 _He is honorable and princely. Such a true gentleman._

She reached up and gently brushed a lock of his coppery hair away from his eyes.

"I am not accepting you merely for the protection you offer to me," She told him quietly, willing him to see her earnestness.

Edward stared at her, wishing, not for the first time, that he could hear her thoughts. Throughout his life, he had been plagued by millions of undesirable mental voices, yet the one mind that he ardently wanted to hear was unyieldingly silent for him. Oh, the ironies of life…

"If you do this, accept me, you cannot go back. There is no way to reverse the mating."

"I guessed as much."

"You will be bound to me and _only_ me for the rest of your life."

"I shall desire nothing else."

"I will change you into a vampire. We will live forever."

Isabella bit her lip. "Fine."

"It is possible…the chances are there that we will never have children. Halflings are rare and very few vampires manage to impregnate human women."

"Will you learn to love me? I know that this bond that we share draws us to each other and that there will never be another for…the both of us?" Isabella asked hesitantly, and breathed a sigh of relief when he nodded resolutely, "But I also know that we have to learn to love each other, that this mating simply wouldn't _manufacture_ love for us out of the blue. So, can you love me?"

"My Lady-"

"Answer me!"

"With all my heart, I will always be devoted to you."

"Then, I don't desire anything else, my Lord," She said tiredly, "For someone who was merely used her entire life by the two people who were supposed to care for her foremost, and has never been an object of anyone's selfless regard, your promise of devotion and love of an eternity sounds heavenly." She leaned against him.

"And I promise to love you back in return. I will never make you regret me."

"I will never regret you, my Lady," Edward's voice was fierce as he finally gave in to his heart's desire and embraced her.

"Call me Bella, please."

"Then, I request you to call me Edward." He left a fiery trail of kisses along her jaw line and sucked her earlobe, unwilling to draw out his wait now that she accepted him, "Do you accept me, Bella?"

"I do," Her voice did not waver as she acquiesced.

"Then I accept you as my mate, my wife, _my Queen!"_ Edward whispered, before plunging his teeth at the base of her neck and taking a gulp of her lifeblood. He released slightest of his venom in return, which though would not change her, but would be enough to seal their bond.

He shuddered as the ambrosia of her blood mingled with his venom, leaving a decadent taste in his mouth.

" _My Bella, my mate._ " He murmured repeatedly, lapping her blood to close her wound.

"Edward," Isabella whispered, "Is it done?"

"Yes, beloved, the Rubicon is well and truly crossed,"* He purred with satisfaction, "Any regrets?" He couldn't help but ask, knowing he would be shattered if she answered in positive.

"None at all. Never." Her vehement answer spurred him and with a deep growl, he brought his mouth to hers.

Fire and Ice, they existed together in that endless moment, twining and mingling, acquainting and recognizing, devouring and consuming to mark the start of _their_ eternity, _their_ life. They did not know how long they kissed lost in each other, burning in the inferno of their mutual passion.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Edward managed to tear his mouth away from hers, panting heavily.

"You are mine now, my Queen."

"As you are now mine, my King." She shyly replied, tightening her arms around him.

They stood together, basking in the glory of their togetherness, until Edward put her behind him abruptly in a blur of movements. His eyes hardened and a fearsome snarl blackened his angelic mien.

"Edward, what…?"

"They are here."

"They who…? Oh, oh, _oh!"_ Isabella gasped, icy fear gripping her heart. She had all but forgotten about her parents and Lord James, lost as she was in the euphoria of being _his._

Once again she was the same vulnerable Isabella who had fled from the ballroom in fright, broken over betrayal meted out to her by those she had trusted. His dead heart throbbed for her.

"Whatever shall we do? Whatever shall we say? They don't know, they won't accept. And there's Lord James and his-"

"Calm down, my sweet, I am here. I shan't allow anyone to tear you from my side. No one shall ever hurt you. I promise." His promise was swift and his eyes shone with determination and barely suppressed rage.

Edward waited until she breathed easy, then took her in his arms and opened the door to let _them_ in.

Now that he had his mate, his Isabella at his side, the beast within him bayed for the blood of those who had hurt her.

They would pay, especially _that_ upstart who had dared to hope to defile _his mate's_ purity.

 _I shall make them regret the day they were born!_ Edward thought viciously.

The revenge would be his.

 _Soon._

* * *

 **The End.**

 *** Arabian:** One of the finest breeds of horses.

* **Doxy:** A very insulting expletive for a woman in regency era.

* **The Rubicon is crossed:** To take a decisive, irrevocable step. A point of no return.

* * *

 **Reviews?**


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